


Resurrection

by shadowolfhunter



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7021834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowolfhunter/pseuds/shadowolfhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick wakes stranded on an island. Lost and confused he tries to work out where he is, and how to get home. It doesn't take him long to realise he's not alone, and some memories come flooding back as Nick confronts his enemy, Sean Renard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Washed Up

He has no idea how he came to be there, or where there was, he just knew he needed to get out of the driving rain. There was a rocky outcrop to his left, and instinctively he headed there.

Nick had no idea how he was in this place, he was alone on a beach he didn’t recognise, and his last memories were hazy. He remembered being surrounded by death and destruction, and now somehow he was here.

He scrambled up the rocks, noting with a detached part of his mind that they were slippery, and there was evidence of seaweed, so the tide was at least as high as that. The climb seemed to take forever, but some of that he put down to his battered body. The rain stopped.

Everything ached. He searched his memory for specifics, but nothing really connected.

He climbed over a substantial boulder and dropped, his feet hit dirt. A path of sorts. He looked back, he had woken up on the beach at low tide. He didn’t know how he was here, but he needed to be able to find a way back to here. He searched his jacket pockets for something, finding his pocket knife and a lighter, which he flicked. Flame spurted. So he had the means to start fire. His phone was soaked and useless, he was minus his badge and gun, and his wallet had three dollars in it. Not that it would be a help out here. His clothes and jacket were damp, and it was cloudy and overcast, he needed to get somewhere dry and where he could stay until he figured this out.

Pulling out the knife, he made a cut in the dirt, and placed a small pile of pebbles next to it. That would have to serve as an identifying marker.

Nick’s all too brief foray into the scouts had yielded one camping trip, but he surprised himself with what he could remember.

 

His watch had survived a soaking, and he took note of the time on it, something seemed kind of off though, because it was starting to get dark, and that wasn’t right for the time of year. He walked for about an hour, finding little but rocks, and shallow caves, too shallow for shelter, and scrubby trees. He looked back at the uninviting rocks, his chances of finding shelter lay further back in the rocks rather than down the hill. So he turned around, and trudged back. Almost as soon as he started to climb he struck lucky. Only a few feet above him, a cave, warm, dry and as far as he could see unoccupied. It wasn’t huge, but went back for quite a few feet and was plenty big enough for him.

He marked the entrance to the cave as he had marked the boulder to the beach, and cast around for some firewood. He figured he needed warmth and shelter more than food. That could wait for light.

He made up a little fire, and pulled his jacket, and sweater off. Until he could find something to use as a bed he could scarcely strip down. His cave was well sheltered, and he had seen no sign of animals. He spread his jacket and sweater out so they would have a chance to dry, and lay down.

He was cold, tired, battered, confused, angry and lost. It could wait until tomorrow.


	2. Foraging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick wakes to his new and strange reality and recalls, with some embarrassment, the lessons of Monroe as he works out how to survive first.

It was early when Nick woke. The fire had cleared died some time ago, but Nick was surprised to find himself reasonably warm, and when he reached out a hand to his sweater, found it to be dry.

Nick pulled off his mostly dried tee shirt, exchanging it for his sweater. His stomach growled, and first order of the day was definitely going to have to be food. Food, something to sleep on, as the hardness of the ground had definitely made itself felt and more firewood. Then he was going to have to figure out where he was.

Outside his cave, Nick found that the day was misty, and so far no rain, but some instinct told him that was not likely to be a case for long. He was being stretched, remembering some of his all too curtailed membership of the scouts, and he was rummaging through his memory for any information he might have gleaned from Monroe…

Monroe Nick paused, the image of his blutbad friend in his mind’s eye. Surely Monroe and Rosalee would be wondering where he was? All he had to do was hang tight and Monroe’s sense of smell would surely find him.

Feeling curiously buoyed by this thought, Nick settled down to search for something to eat.

After the rocks and scrubby trees, the forest seemed to get thicker and darker. The trees tall, and a kind of pine that Nick was not sure he had ever seen before. Not that he knew every tree in Oregon, but some of this did not make sense. He faltered and stopped. Something did not add up. He knew he had never seen these trees before.

He looked up, and turned around slowly studying the canopy far above his head. Sadly, yielding no further clues to where he found himself. Nick sighed, and cast an eye around the treelike, noticing with a little alarm that every direction was almost the same. He glanced behind him, and could still see the place where he entered the forest.

He searched carefully, keeping an eye on his direction and marking his passage through the forest, in time he ran across signs of other human presence, an abandoned and half collapsed hut of some kind that looked as though it had been that way for years. Inside he found a bucket, but nothing else particularly useable. He took the bucket.

He continued down the path which opened out to a flat but rocky beach, and taking his bearings he was pretty sure that where he was, was nowhere near home. The chances of his friends finding him seemed remote. So survival trumped escape.

He’d work on a plan for that once he’d figured out how to take care of himself.

He had a bucket, he’d found some lengths of rope, and spent some time rolling them up, and then luck struck, he found an old packing crate, which yielded a couple of blankets. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Now Nick could no longer ignore his stomach. He had seen some berries, and was trying to remember Monroe’s lengthy woods-craft lecture, something the blutbad seemed to think that Nick needed to know. Now it was obvious Nick did need to know it, and he felt himself blushing as he mumbled a heartfelt apology to the absent Monroe.

One or two of the bushes seemed familiar, and he was pretty certain that the little round red fruits were actually redcurrants. He picked one and took a cautious nibble. Yes, definitely redcurrants. Somewhere in the back of Nick’s mind it occurred to him that this was a cultivated fruit and it had likely been planted by people, but he hadn’t run into anyone so far, so he pushed that aside as being irrelevant and gathered up his spoils so far.

He worked his way back to his cave. Dropped his finds on the cave floor and set to working out how he could make a bed for himself.

Some of the bushes outside seemed to have soft and springy branches, and big, fresh leaves. After about an hour’s work, he’d made himself a sort of mattress by scraping out a hollow in the cave floor with a rock, using some branches and leaves from the bushes and one of the blankets as a base.

Apparently Monroe’s lectures, whilst intense, and something that Nick had rolled his eyes through (mostly) had gone in. Leaving Nick feeling mildly ashamed that he’d given the blutbad such a hard time about.

You never know when you might need it, Monroe had said. And damn, he was right.

 

After an impromptu feast of redcurrants, which lifted Nick’s spirits some, he picked up the bucket and went in search of water to drink. He decided to climb up above his cave this time, reasoning that a purer drinking water was probably going to be found higher up. Making use of his little pocket knife and some more stones he climbed.

 

There was water, he found it after about fifteen minutes of climbing and scrambling around, a small spring which wound its way down the hillside away from Nick’s cave.

Nick filled his bucket, having wiped it out with the bandana he had in his pocket for emergency clean ups and set off back down the hill.

 

When he arrived back at the cave, he noticed several things, it was starting to get darker than his watch indicated it should be, which suggested to him that he was maybe not even in the continental United States any more; he was hungry again, but he’d failed to bring back more redcurrants, and that a habitual diet of redcurrants was going to be very boring and he would have to figure out how to fish for himself as he’d seen no sign of animals in the area.

That he really wouldn’t know how to catch them even if he did was something that Nick chose to gloss over. He picked a large leaf and set off for more redcurrants.

 

As he entered the clearing where the bushes were, he suddenly became aware that he was not alone.

“Who’s there?” he challenged.

The bushes rustled to his left and to Nick’s astonishment and anger, Sean Renard stepped out.

 

Nick felt a wave of rage so strong he swayed from it. “You.” he snarled.

Renard put his hands up in a placating gesture, but rage had a hold, this was Nick’s enemy. Nick charged.

“Nick!” Renard’s voice sounded a little shaky, he was minus the sword and the jacket he’d been wearing since Nick last saw him. But none of that mattered.

Nick attacked without mercy, punching and kicking Renard, who curiously seemed barely able to parry Nick’s blows. Not that Nick would have cared. Renard, who had tried to take everything from him.

Renard tried to fight back, tried to hold Nick off, but the Grimm was too strong and too angry.

Finally Renard fell to his knees, and Nick slammed him into the ground. Renard lay there panting.

 

Dimly aware that Nick was hauling him back to his knees, binding his wrists together in front of him and then securing his arms close to his body by tying the ends of the rope around his waist. Sean was spent, wounded and in pain, he passively submitted to whatever Nick wanted to do to him.

 

Nick hauled his captive back to the cave, taking no notice of how the bigger man just went along with it, tamely submitting to whatever Nick wanted. Even when Nick dragged him to the back of the cave and just let go, letting Renard drop to the floor like a stone.

Nick used another piece of rope to lash Renard’s ankles together, and then taking the bandana he placed a knot in the middle, working Renard’s slack jaw open he pushed the knot into the older man’s mouth and knotted it tightly behind his head. Nick sure as hell had no interest in hearing anything that Renard might say.

Satisfied his prisoner was going nowhere, Nick selected another leaf and went back to pick more redcurrents. He would deal with Renard later.


	3. 'Kilimanjaro'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick has the drop on his enemy. Only things don't quite go that way.

It was dark as Nick lit his small fire. The light barely penetrated the back of the cave as Nick sat and contemplated his new existence.

Sean Renard had tried to take everything from Nick, the zauberbiest did not deserve a second chance to wreck everything that Nick held dear.

Nick glanced behind him, Renard lay where he had dropped, unmoving, apparently spent. Everything about the man infuriated the Grimm, it barely registered that the older man had not moved or made a sound. Perhaps he was already dead. Or maybe dying. Therefore saving Nick the trouble.

Nick made himself comfortable on his fresh bed, pulling the blanket over himself. Laying back he drifted into sleep.

 

_Nick._

He startled. “Mom.” It was impossible, it was as though she was there beside him.

_Nick…_

He screwed his eyes further closed. “You’re not real,” he whispered, “they killed you. Sean’s family killed you.”

It was as though she was sitting there beside him, like she used to when he was little, when he was frightened or ill.

_You were supposed to make history with Sean. Not kill him._

_He ain’t dead yet_ , Nick grumbled to himself. His mother’s ghost was inconvenient.

_No, but he will be, if you just leave him._

He could hear the tone in her voice, as clear as if she was sitting next to him, and that just bugged Nick all over again.

“He took my family.” Nick’s voice was hoarse with strain. _I…_ He sat up slowly. The dream so vivid, so real.

 _Save Sean. You will make history._ Nick shook his head, his mother’s voice, but she was dead, taken from him by Sean’s family.

There was a sound behind him, muffled, indistinct. Nick turned around slowly. Renard was moving. Nick scowled, but figured he had better check. With his mother’s voice ringing in his ears, Nick wasn’t taking chances.

He gathered up a leaf with some of the redcurrants, figuring Renard was probably hungry, and perhaps Nick ought to take the gag off, if the man choked to death that would cheat Nick of his victory.

Renard was definitely moving. Nick reached out and touched the back of the zauberbiest’s hand.

Renard flinched backwards so hard Nick heard the thud as his back struck the wall of the cave, the brief contact with skin enough to tell Nick that Sean was burning up.

“Jeezus…” Nick cursed under his brief, reaching out again he tried to touch Sean’s hands, trying to reach the ropes, Sean struggled away. The bigger man was thrashing, struggling, trying to get free, to get away, but the thing that pierced Nick’s heart, the pitiful incoherent whimpers muffled by the gag.

He could tell from that brief touch, and occasional proximity to Sean’s body that the Captain was definitely running a fever, which suggested some sort of infection. But to get close enough to do anything to help he was going to have to get the Captain to calm down.

Sean had gotten about as far away as he was able in his condition. To do anything to treat him, Nick was going to have to get him untied and ungagged.

Nick stopped, just going after the incoherent semi-conscious man was not going to do anything. He had to get Sean to settle, at least long enough to free him. The alternative was to make him struggle until he exhausted himself, and Nick didn’t like the idea of that.

Sean slumped again, and Nick very cautiously reached out, gently brushing his fingers over Sean’s cheek. The zauberbiest tensed, but the fight seemed to have gone out of him, and Nick reached behind Sean and fumbled the knot he had made open.

He pulled the gag out of Sean’s mouth, but the big man barely reacted. With trembling fingers, Nick reached very carefully for Renard’s pulse. Another flinch, this one much weaker, and the pulse itself seemed thready.

It was one thing to fight, and another to wish the Captain dead in the abstract, but something very different to actually have hands on the man, and discover inconveniently that their past, that whatever Sean had done to harm Nick, he had done a lot to save and protect Nick, and just maybe some of what had gone down with Black Claw and Hadrian’s Wall was at least partially Nick’s fault. Renard… Sean… had to have been reeling from dying and being brought back, and then Jack, before that Diana.

Maybe what he and Sean had done to Adalind, and the whole thing with Diana may have been wrong, but Nick had to believe that Sean’s motivation for Diana was to keep her safe and give her the childhood he hadn’t had.

Calmly, Nick began to examine Sean for injuries. Keeping touch gentle and low-key, he very carefully felt over Sean’s arms, down his torso and back. It was when he reached Sean’s left thigh that he found it.

The black jeans were wet, and when he touched the thigh, the zauberbiest’s reaction was a low pitiful moan as his body tensed. Pulling his hand away, Nick glanced at the blood on his fingers, not good.

He needed a closer look, and since destroying the jeans was not a particularly good idea, he was going to have to partly undress his Captain. Sean did not react at all as Nick carefully undid the belt and slowly unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans.

Undressing a mostly comatose, injured man much taller and heavier than yourself was far from easy, and Nick struggled to pull the jeans down. The skin of Sean’s thigh felt hot, and tight and there was a sizeable swelling which was oozing lymph and pus. There seemed to be something in the wound, which was only small, and Nick knew he was going to have to get whatever it was in there out.

No pain relievers, nothing to knock him out, it was probably best that Nick attempted to get on with it while the man was comatose.

Nick had fresh water, a not too dirty bandana, a pocket knife, and fire. He didn’t really like what they added up to, but if he did nothing, Sean was going to get worse. Vague memories of reading The Snows of Kilimanjaro at school, told Nick that it could get worse. A lot worse.

Nick found that he had no wish to see Sean, or anyone, die like that.

He checked. Sean had passed out again, and Nick took the opportunity to get a firm grip under Sean’s arms and around his chest, and dragged Sean over to Nick’s makeshift bed. Sean’s head resting against Nick’s shoulder, the young Grimm fought the urge to comfort the bigger man, even though Sean could not feel it.

Nick was not quite over his ire.

 

Piercing the abcess, extracting the four inch thorn lodged in Sean’s thigh, and then attempting to drain and clear the wound, was quite the most revolting thing Nick had ever done. The fact that he had very little to work with made the job even more distressing. Even though he was unconscious, Sean obviously felt all of it. By the time Nick had come to an end, the older man was shivering and shaking, and uttering low pitiful moans.

When he was done, Nick took stock. Sean was bigger, and Nick had to admit, pretty powerful. He was mostly out of it, but if Nick freed him totally, what if he became uncontrollable in the grip of delirium. But he’d already caused damage to his wrists fighting the bonds. Nick could see the reddened skin, and bruising.

Nick freed Sean’s ankles, and untied the rope around Sean’s waist, but left his wrists bound. Hoping that Sean would understand, but it probably would make him easier to control. Nick wasn’t trying to hurt him further, just save him from himself.

Decision made, Nick got to his feet. Sean was out of it, by the looks of him he would be out of it for some time, and Nick needed to find some more supplies and food.

He folded up his jacket and put it under Sean’s head, then gently drew a blanket over his partially clothed form. The gentle hand that caressed Sean’s forehead, well Nick tried not to think about that at all.


	4. Exploring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick manages to find some more things, although it's a clear indication that people have been there, he sees no one else. Sean takes a turn for the worse.

Leaving Sean lying in Nick’s makeshift bed, in the condition he was in, proved harder than Nick anticipated. His mother’s words kept running through his head, though Nick had never really detected her being a fan of Renard’s and that lead him to wonder what was really going on in his mind.

He had never been completely certain of Sean Renard. The guy was his Captain, so there was an automatic distance, and then with everything that happened, finding out that the guy was Wesen, and Royal, and had Nick’s aunt killed; well that set the seal on Nick’s distrust.

But he had to admit he had managed to deal with Renard, when their relationship was not actively hostile, and a couple of times was truly grateful for his help. But the shit that went down with Black Claw and everything that had happened and Renard co-opting his family, well that put the man on the opposite side of things to Nick.

But now Renard was sick, and injured, okay it wasn’t a major injury, but it was infected. Sean was in a pitiful condition, and Nick wasn’t quite able to let go of the good that there had been in their relationship, and the inconvenient voice in his head which said Sean Renard had been just as much of a victim as himself.

 

He decided he was going to scramble down over the rocks and see where the other side lead. For some reason Nick was certain they were on an island, but he wanted to test the theory.

Scrambling down the rocks proved difficult. They were slippery and Nick lost his footing a couple of times. The second time he slipped and fell hard, knocking the wind out of himself. For a few seconds he just let himself lie there, before gingerly moving. As he put his hand out to lever himself up, his fingers brushed something.

It was a small rucksack, caught in a crevice, from above he never would have seen it, but at the angle he was lying, he could not only see it, but get to it. Nick reached over and gently pulled it out.

It was a greenish-gray colour and a rather old-fashioned style, he had no idea how long it had been there, but it was mostly sheltered from the weather, so perhaps whatever was inside would be useable.

Eagerly he opened the bag. A couple of tee shirts, a plate, a cup, a first aid kit. Nick let the other things fall back inside as he pulled open the kit. The dates on the dressings were about five years old, but he figured as they were sealed, they were still useable, and Sean’s leg wound was better covered than not right now. He closed the kit and put it back, choosing to examine the rest of the contents when he was back at the cave.

 

Some two hours later he was back at the cave, more fruit, he had found some more wild vines with blueberries. Which suggested they were not as alone as he had first thought. Though Nick couldn’t decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Sean was asleep when he returned, and Nick took the opportunity to clean up his infected wound again, and this time apply a dressing. The zauberbiest barely stirred, and that worried Nick, without any thermometer, he had to guess at the big man’s temperature, and without any actual knowledge of Renard’s normal temperature he really couldn’t guess whether the heated skin was bad or good.

He cleaned up carefully, and then covered Sean with the blanket again. The Captain curled into a semi-foetal position and apparently went back to sleep.

 

Nick had gathered two longish, straight sticks when he had been foraging earlier. He’d seen a documentary on some country or other where the tribes were spear-fishing, and Nick figured that it didn’t look all that difficult, what he could remember of it, and that he didn’t have much of a clue how else he was going to obtain fish, so trying couldn’t hurt.

Checking Sean was still sleeping, Nick gathered up his sticks and a net bag he’d found in the rucksack and headed down to the beach. How difficult could it be?

He took his boots off, and after a moment’s thought, he stripped off his jeans too. No sense in getting them soaked. Down to his boxers he waded out into the clear waters.

He could see the fish practically basking in the water. He crept closer, raised his crudely fashioned spear and lunged. The fish whisked past him, and Nick stumbled, nearly face-planting in the water.

An hour later, he had lost his footing twice, narrowly missed his own foot with the spear and the fish seemed to be laughing at him.

Nick longed for his gun, but he had the two stakes and that was it.

He was wet through, his sweater and boxers were clinging to him, and the rain which seemed to come on a daily basis was pouring down. Food would be the berries again. He would try for fish again tomorrow.

 

He realised almost the moment he entered the cave that the Captain had taken a turn for the worse, Sean’s breathing was laboured and when Nick put his hand on the big man’s forehead, the zauberbiest was burning up.

Instead of thrashing around like he had before, Renard seemed to be holding himself very, very still. Carefully, Nick reached out and touched the bound wrists, the flinch was barely a quiver, and fever-glazed green eyes watched him from under the fringe of lashes.

The pain and fear in them just broke Nick’s heart.

 

Nick poured some of the water in the tin cup, and ripped the bandana in half, it wasn’t much to try to bring Sean’s temperature down, but it was better than nothing and playing around with the wound so soon after cleaning it a second time didn’t seem like a good idea. He soaked the half of the bandana, and gently began to bathe Sean’s face, and around his neck. After a few minutes the Captain relaxed, Nick put the cup down and gently reached for the ropes around Sean’s wrists.

He doubted that the zauberbiest would hurt him, and suddenly Nick found himself wanting Sean to trust him.

Nick slowly untangled the rope, and very gently cradled Sean’s abused sore wrists, washing out the rag, he carefully bathed the sore rubbed spots around the wrist bones. Sean seemed to relax, his breathing was still laboured, and his temperature elevated, but he seemed to be responding to Nick, and the Grimm hoped that his former boss was starting to turn the corner.

 

Nick was not sure what woke him, but a hand on Sean’s arm told him that his earlier optimism about Sean’s condition was misplaced. The zauberbiest’s breathing was even more laboured, and his temperature was higher, at least as far as Nick could tell. Then he remembered the first aid kit.

He opened it. The thermometer was one of those forehead strip ones, the kind they use for children. Placed on Sean’s forehead Nick watched in horror as each little coloured block lit up. Sean’s temperature was somewhere over one hundred and three. That was not good.

Nick bathed Sean’s face and neck again, put the half-bandana in the water again, wrung it out so that it wasn’t dripping, and wrapped around Sean’s neck.

So concentrated on what he was doing, he barely noticed when Sean stretched out a shaking hand towards him. Nick slipped closer, taking the hand between both of his, he lay back, allowing the bigger man to ease up against him.

The zauberbiest moved close enough to curl up against the Grimm. 

Nick slid an arm around him and closed his eyes. Praying that he had done enough, because this was bad, and even angry with Renard, Nick did not want Sean to die.


End file.
